Okay, look – before we dive into tonight’s dinner party, I just want to acknowledge our collective emotional devastation. Yes, Gia and Scott are still here. No, they didn’t actually leave. Yes, we’ve all been conned.

If I could refer you to a MAFS trauma support group, I would. But sadly, we’re on our own. Stay safe out there, guys. Take care of yourselves.

Right – on with the show.

Watch Bec and Gia clashing during the season’s first dinner party. Post continues below.

Heading in, a few updates (besides the resurrection of our resident supervillains). Steve really enjoyed playing captain to Rachel’s passenger during Feedback Week and is keen to take the lead more often – ideally in ways that involve nothing more intense than making bad nachos.

Bec, meanwhile, has successfully strong-armed Danny into officially dubbing her his Girlfriend following a full panic about him bolting the second filming ends. The fact she already knows he won’t take this ‘marriage’ seriously post-experiment should probably be a red flag – but no, she needs hard proof that their relationship is SERIOUS and WILL NEVER END.

Danny agrees with all the enthusiasm of a man signing a gym contract he plans to cancel tomorrow. “Men do things we don’t want to do,” he tells producers. “We do things to make these women feel good.”

I can practically hear him stretching for a sprint.

But this is confusing for our sworn “ride-or-die” couple, no? I thought their support of one another was mutually blind. You jump, I jump …right? But, when discussing the imminent dinner party, Danny asserts that if anyone takes Bec to task over Textgate, he’ll remain “quiet as a fieldmouse.” Because, apparently, he doesn’t “condone bad behaviour,” not even from his wife.

“I’m not gonna defend someone who’s in the wrong,” he says.

But wait – isn’t that the whole premise of ride-or-die? Unqualified loyalty? Or have the terms and conditions changed? Because last I checked, this man had been waving that slogan around like a legally binding contract. And wasn’t it him who repeatedly dragged her over the coals for briefly believing a fairly believable off-camera comment? Or was that just a dream?

Anyway.

Bec is hoping Textgate has quietly died. Production, however, has other plans. Alissa has been given the full fierce edit and is now being positioned as the new One To Watch. “I refuse to play the game anymore,” she says, staring straight down the barrel of the camera. “The behaviour needs to be addressed.”

Image: Nine.

Does it, though? Does it really?

Seems so. Because for the first time all season – either because production has been in her ear, or because the pressure cooker has finally burned her to the core – Alissa is absolutely FUMING.

And she’s not alone.

On their way into the dinner party, Sam tells Chris he’s planning to raise their unresolved issue at the table. “I feel like I need some people around to give us an outside perspective.”

Chris seems perplexed. “Is this still about the comment I made to Mel?”

No, Sam explains. It’s about everything that followed – the defensiveness, the dismissal, the apology-that-wasn’t, and yes, even a touch of gaslighting.

Chris instantly switches off. Never mind that Sam feels anxious and nauseous about communicating his feelings – Chris is hurt. He’s angry. He’s uncomfortable. He feels betrayed. No one has ever called him a gaslighter before. His apologies have never gone unaccepted. Which, I’m sorry, sounds wildly unlikely.

(Side note – let’s all add this to our MAFS drinking game: whenever someone prioritises semantics over feelings and claims all their partner’s pain and injury as their own.)

Image: Nine.

Instead of de-escalating, Chris heads straight to the bar upon arrival and sets about recruiting allies. “Oh, it’s on,” he tells Gia. “He called me a gaslighter.”

“I never liked Sam,” says Gia. “Super calculated. Childish.”

“Obviously, he’ll have Bec on his side,” says Chris.

Gia nods, challenge accepted. “Us versus them.”

I promptly bang my head against a wall. Does literally everything have to be a battle? Seriously, the relentless conflict-seeking is so depressing, I genuinely can’t take it anymore. My soul is dying, piece by tiny piece.

At the table, we get straight down to business with Fingergate and Those Damn Texts. Alissa goes first, quoting them verbatim and demanding Bec not just listen but hear the impact of what she did.

But Bec can’t hear anything at all – she’s already lost inside her own defence strategy: she’s sorry. Again. It was wrong. Unacceptable.

BUT.

And there it is.

“We have a war,” she says, gesturing at Gia. “Gia sent (the messages) to Juliette, and Juliette’s gonna shit on everyone, and that’s hurt you two, when you two don’t deserve to be hurt.”

It’s poor form. As usual.

Still – and credit where it’s due – Alissa gets her point across without imploding. (See? It can in fact be done.) “This shit is f***ed,” she correctly concludes.

Image: Nine.

And… miracle of miracles… we actually move on.

Sam then requests everyone’s help in detangling what has become a big problem for him and Chris. “I can’t get to a conclusion just the two of us,” he says. Translation: please help me.

However, Chris jumps in before he can finish. “My energy is a little off,” he says, as if taking the floor to deliver a power ballad. “I’m going to give you a bit of background on what happened.”

His version involves a minor issue that he thought they’d resolved – until Sam blindsided him in the car and called him a gaslighter. So, now he’s been thrown under the bus, his energy has been compromised and, as a result, whatever Sam has to say can’t possibly be taken seriously (He actually didn’t say this last bit but I feel like it was implied.)

Taking his turn, Sam calmly explains his side: he felt dismissed, unheard, and the apology didn’t land because it focused on the comment, not the behaviour.

And, weirdly, that’s kind of where it ends. No real advice, no resolution, no concessions – or not that we’re shown anyway. Rachel says they both have valid points. The experts talk behind the scenes about tone and repair. Chris says he’s been “stabbed in the heart.” And that’s all she wrote.

I dunno – my protest placard reads Justice for Sam, what does yours say?

Image: Nine.

Next, we hear from Steve and Rachel, who are positively glowing. Apparently nachos and a YouTube fishing video have unlocked Steve’s inner alpha. But when pushed to expand on exactly how he’s been taking the lead (nudge, nudge, wink, wink) he puts on his big boy pants on and tells the group he’s sick of being told to have sex.

“There’s so much pressure,” he says, firmly. When it happens, it happens. Until then, can everyone please pipe the hell down?

Oh, Steven. We were not familiar with your game, sir. Take a bloody bow.

Next in the ring are Danny and Gia, who spar over why Gia didn’t show up for their feedback appointment. “It would’ve been nice to get some advice from a woman in the experiment,” he says – especially since he’s got nothing but positive things to say about her and Scott. It was a missed opportunity for them both.

Gia tells him it was just a bad week, she was ready to leave, she couldn’t take any more – and if she’d turned up and argued with him, she would’ve looked bad.

I mean, personally think that horse might’ve bolted, babe, but okay.

Danny suggests she could’ve taken a more positive approach instead – because he was genuinely up for a sincere discussion.

Her response? “I wasn’t, like, oh, it’s Danny, fuck that. We just had a tough week.”

Interesting revision of history, G – because I distinctly remember you locking yourself in a bathroom and telling the camera crew to go fuck themselves precisely because you assumed you were being set up for feedback with Danny. Or did I make that up?

“Danny’s full of shit,” Gia says in an aside. “It would’ve turned into a screaming match. Do I need that right now? No.”

Classic Gia. Always thinking of others.

As we near the episode’s end, I start to relax. It’s almost over – with fairly minimal damage. Hurray!

But no. Because, suddenly and for no discernible reason, we’re dragged backwards into the stinky black swamp of Textgate. NOOOOOOOO!

Before we can grab the remote, Bec is circling back like a hungry vulture to Gia sharing the screenshots, and deliberately trying to take her down, and turning Alissa into collateral, and OH MY GOD STOP TALKING, PLEASE STOP TALKING!!

Everyone else around the table looks as utterly drained as I feel.

“I feel ashamed of Bec,” Danny admits to producers. “And frustrated.”

Image: Nine.

You and me both, mate.

Quietly and calmly, he tells her that he’s sick of the drama – he doesn’t care about who did what. Instead, he’d rather discuss how he can become a better person and partner.

“I need help,” he says, “as a man, with our relationship. I struggle with a lot of these things. That’s why I came onto this experiment, because I’ve failed in the real world. So I’d rather be talking about positive things. I want us to have a good relationship.”

It’s a really, really, good point – one I wholeheartedly support.

Does Bec take it on board?

Absolutely not.

“Just relax,” she snaps. “Do not sit here and say I want us to have a good relationship but we don’t because of drama at dinner parties. I want you to be wary of what you say.”

Image: Nine.

“And I want you to be wary about what you text people,” he shoots back.

Touché.

But inevitably, Bec is out of there.

“I’m done,” she says – for the seven hundredth time this season. “I gotta go.”

Outside, she tells producers she wants out. Now. She’s done, do they hear her? DONE!

“Get me out of here,” she snarls. “He says we’re ride or die – we’re not! This is not okay!”

Now, correct me if I’m wrong. But the “not okay” thing appears to be… him telling her the truth?

For more on MAFS, listen to Mamamia’s The Spill. Post continues below.

And – just confirming – this is not cool because truth-telling in the face of unhinged behaviour (*checks notes*) violates the rules of “ride-or-die”? The same sacred vow of unconditional allegiance that Danny has made his whole brand, and has invoked at every turn – especially when he himself is in hot water?

If yes, is Bec’s fury really so unreasonable? Or are we to believe that “ride-or-die” is a one-way street?

Oh, Danny boy. It seems you have made your bed. And now you must lie in it.

Join me next time when, in all probability, Clyde will take a nap while Bonnie stews in her own self-loathing – and Gia and Scott will go away and come back again like flies at a summer barbie. Stay tuned for more earth-shattering events…

Feature image: Nine.